


A Good World After All

by DianeB



Category: Bewitched (TV 1964)
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Gen, Witchcraft, older parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 05:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19193002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DianeB/pseuds/DianeB
Summary: Many years have gone by since the mortal man married the witch.





	A Good World After All

**Author's Note:**

> A bittersweet tale. Set in the present, and told from Adam's point of view, it assumes Darrin Stephens was 35 when his son was born in 1969. (Could be correct, could be not. Don't think it matters so much.)
> 
> Written October, 2004, after a reactivation of my "Bewitched gene" that initially began with a visit to fanficdotnet and then to several fantastic Bewitched websites: Bewitched.net, Jenny Norton's Bewitched Fan Fiction, and Bewitched @ Harpies Bizarre. Thank you, delightful strangers – with a very special thanks to Holly "pandora-spocks," for permission to use her perfect poem, "Darrin's Love Poem to Samantha." Thanks also to Mighty Editor Goddess for her valuable editing assistance, and to Monica, for her keen attention to the lingo of the native New Yorker.

Adam, walking along the reservoir in Central Park, stopped a moment to watch a little girl throwing bread to the ducks.  He chuckled under his breath.  Ducks didn't get much nutritional value from bread, especially not the white stuff the child was tossing, but this was New York City, and ducks hadda eat what ducks hadda eat.  He thought for a second of changing the bread to something more suitable (like some nice, juicy plant life) right inside the ducks' bills, but decided he didn't want to be responsible for giving a bunch of poor Mallards a collective heart attack, especially not in front of the little girl.  He continued his stroll.

Adam Stephens, now 35, looked barely 20, thanks to the unique genetic blending of his mortal father and witch mother.  He was, in fact, guaranteed to remain fairly youthful-looking well into his hundreds, though he would certainly not be living in an upscale apartment off Central Park West by that time.

One hazard to being a warlock or a witch in a mortal world was this business of having to "reinvent" oneself after a standard amount of years had passed.  Sometimes it involved the use of magic that would project an image of aging until the time was right – the kind his mother was presently using – or out and out drop-off-the-face-of-the-earth vanishing – the nature of which his outrageous grandmother had been engaged in for centuries.

A much bigger hazard, emotionally speaking, was that this also meant if you happened to be married to (or the son of) a mortal, you would have to watch the person you loved age at a regular human rate, while you merely inched forward in time.  Adam hadn't really understood what this might cost him when his mother explained it to him and his sister when they were younger, but he understood now.  As to his own method of reinvention, he had not yet decided which route he would go.  He and Tabitha had touched on the subject once or twice, but those conversations always managed to end on other topics.  His thoughts turned to his father.

Darrin Stephens was in the later stages of Alzheimer's, diagnosed several years earlier, and while his mother and grandmother had successfully cast spells that kept his mind sharp, it was becoming more and more difficult for them to keep up as his disease progressed, and each time the spells wore off, he was worse.  Even Endora, who never had a kind word to say about her mortal son-in-law, had taken more than one risk to ensure Darrin would continue to have his health.

And, of course, there was the matter of Darrin himself.  His father had never wanted his mother to use her witchcraft – though she always did – and he insisted she stop using spells now to protect him from the inevitable.  He told her she could fool the doctors till the cows came home, but in the end he was, after all, human, and this was the natural course of humanity.  Before she could get out a word of objection, he would also remind her she had known that when she married him.  This pretty much did the trick, at least until the next time he started to slip.

Adam stopped again and looked up at the clear blue sky.  Such a gorgeous day in New York City.  And soon he'd be headed back home, to Westport, to help celebrate his father's 70th birthday.  If it was gorgeous here, it was certain to be even more so in Westport.  Aside from a couple of remodeling jobs, and few modern amenities like digital cable and central air, the house on Morning Glory Circle was virtually unchanged from what he remembered growing up.

More than that, he knew that behind the doors of this unchanged house was the only place in this hemisphere where both his mother and his grandmother were free to assume the appearance of their current age.

Given that the aging process was dramatically slower for witches and warlocks once they reached puberty, Samantha Stephens looked every bit like she did in 1964.  She was young, slim, blonde, and beautiful, with that adorable nose that had regularly gotten her family into a slew of trouble she would then have to "twitch" them all out of.  In fact, nose and all, she could pass for the twin of his sister.

It was the only time his father would exclaim out loud that he loved being married to a witch.  Endora, perched precariously on the back of the couch in an outfit that would wake the dead, her big hair its usual godawful shade of red, would invariably swat him playfully upside the head, roll her eyes and snort, but his mother would beam at him, snuggle closer on the couch, and plant a kiss on his cheek.

Adam smiled at the memory, checked his watch, and looked around.  He was right where he was supposed to be at exactly the right time, but, of course, Tabitha was not.  She was supposed to meet him here, so they could go together to the house, but she was late.  As usual.  She was exactly like her grandmother that way.  After a couple of minutes of wondering how late she was going to be this time, he felt rather than heard a disturbance in a shaded spot to his left.  When he turned, she was there.

"Tabby, I swear, one of these days, the wrong mortal is going to see you do that, and no amount of nose-twitching is going to get you out of the world of hurt you’ll be in.  There's such a thing as stalkers these days, you know.  C'mon, or we're going to be late.  My car's parked on Columbus."

"Don't call me Tabby, I sound like a freaking cat.  And why do you insist on driving, when we could be there in a twitch, brother dear?"  She was clearly unconcerned about anything as mundane as stalkers.

Adam, not blessed with Tabitha's level of power, didn't care to use even what he had unless it was absolutely necessary.  He was a lot like his father that way, in that he would rather see things done without magic.  In fact, he was pretty darn good at "doing things without magic," having become all on his own one of the top advertising executives in the business in a very short period of time – something both his parents were very proud of.

Thus, he preferred driving his fully-loaded, cherry-red Cabriolet over using any sort of witchery to get anywhere of distance.  Since he knew Tabitha knew this, he gave her a withering stare for asking, which she ignored.  "Where’s my precious niece?" he asked, speaking of Tabitha's only child, ten-year-old Merrilynn.  Her father being a full warlock, Merrilynn was three-quarters witch, and one hundred percent perfect.

"She's in San Francisco with Paige, learning a couple new potions.  Paige said she’d orb her to the party."

Adam rolled his eyes.  Paige and her sisters, though powerful witches known as the Charmed Ones, got into worse trouble than his mother ever did, but Paige was also one of Tabitha's best friends, and the two women would do anything for each another.  "C'mon, then, and ride with me.  You know you love it.  I've got the latest Green Day.  We'll take the Merritt, speed like David Letterman, and be there in no time." 

*   *   *

The party was a complete success.  Attended as it was only by immediate family and two close friends, there was no need for secrecy or even the mask of aging.  Larry Tate and his wife had long ago been told of Samantha's special talents, and while it had taken them a few days to get their heads around it, when they finally did, it was a lock.  And though Larry had been a self-absorbed blowhard during his days as Darrin's boss at McMann & Tate, never once after he'd learned the truth about Samantha did he ask Sam to use witchcraft to gain clientele or to otherwise better his life – but they sure had a lot of fun reminiscing about the "old days" before Larry knew what was really going on.  Larry claimed that learning the details of some of the zanier happenings of the past had reduced his blood pressure so much, he was able to cut his medication in half.

That didn't necessarily mean Sam didn't use her witchcraft every now and then to make life easier for Larry and Louise, it was just that Larry had a hard time with the idea he could get something for nothing.  Still, when he’d slipped on the ice back in '97 and was laid up for months, he did not object to Sam's twitching to get the garden in for him that spring.  It was those kinds of things Sam did for the Tate's, and her actions never went unnoticed or unappreciated.  For Samantha Stephens, it was more than enough.

*   *   *

His mother approached him in the kitchen.  "Adam, you look wonderful."

"Thanks, Mom.  So do you."  Well, that was a mighty understatement, but he was used to seeing his mother looking like she had when he was young.  Sometimes, when she bounced back and forth from old to young, it was a little disconcerting, but really, when it came right down to it, she was beautiful either way.  Right now, he had an idea of what was on her mind, but he decided to let her get to it on her own. 

"Did you see where Merry went?"

He cocked his head toward the sliding glass doors off the living room.  "I think she’s in the yard with Dad and Tab, playing badminton."

She turned and looked toward the back.  "Oh, my stars," she said, using vernacular she picked up from her granddaughter, "Darrin really sucks at that game."  She craned her neck to get a better view into the yard.  "Larry's out there, isn't he?  He shouldn't play.  He'll twist his back."

Adam, sensing her rising anxiety, let her off the hook.  He placed his hand on her shoulder.  "It’s okay, Mom, I know what you need to do."

She turned, sighing heavily, and looked at her feet.  When she brought her head back up to him, her eyes were shining with unshed tears.  "It's awful to see him when he's bad, Adam, even though I knew it would come to this."  She chewed her bottom lip, a familiar habit that made him want to hold her until all her pain went away.  "But I just never wanted to believe it would be so hard.  It's funny, though," she smiled sadly, "mother doesn't ever say 'I told you so,' even though she easily could.  She's come such a long way in her relationship with Darrin.  At first, I thought they'd never be anything more than rivals for my attention, but now, now, she has real affection for him; she really cares for him."

He brought her gently back, hating it.  "Have you talked to dad?"

Though her eyes were brimming, her voice was strong.  Well, she _was_ strong.  "Yes, this morning.  It's gotten to the point now that he knows when he's starting to slip – almost before _I_ know.  He told me at breakfast that my birthday gift to him could be one more spell to clear his mind, and that would be it."  Now her voice cracked as tears slipped from her eyes and down her cheeks.  "When this spell wears off, he's not going to be my Darrin or your dad anymore, and I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to take it."  She wept openly now, and this time he took her in his arms, holding her tightly, tucking her head under his chin, trying hard not to cry himself.

“It's okay, Mom, it's okay.  We'll be here.  We'll all be here."

*   *   *

The badminton competition was fierce, after Louise joined the game and proved to be quite the ringer.  Adam was on the swing at the far end of the yard, watching the birdie action, when he noticed his father coming towards him.

"Whatsamatter, pop?  The women tiring you out?"

Darrin slowly lowered his body to the chair beside the swing, grunting when his rear end hit the seat.  "Yeah, well, I'd say the women have an unfair advantage, in that one of them is almost four hundred years old!"  His voice, raised just enough so that everyone at the net could hear him, held only gentle teasing.  Darrin Stephens had never felt the remotest hint of jealously over the facts of his wife's abilities and advantages.  He just accepted it.  Without looking at Adam, he spoke quietly.  "You talk to your mother yet?"

Adam knew this was coming.  "Yeah."

"She cry?"

"Yeah."

"Doesn't matter, this is the last time."  Darrin tried to sound gruff, but he wasn't very convincing.  There was, however, finality in his voice that had been absent from previous times, and Adam knew there would be no changing his mind this time.  Truth be told, he had never been able to argue with his father, and had always left the really hard stuff to his mother and sister.  This time, however, he knew it was his turn.

"Yes, but. . ."

And that was it for argument.

"No buts, Adam.  I'm tired, your mother is tired, hell, _Endora_ is tired, though you didn't hear that from me, and I'd deny it even if you said you did."  He chuckled and then turned a serious face to his son.  "Listen to me, I won't for a minute say that being married to your mother hasn't been the greatest ride of my life.  Even with all the craziness of the early years, I wouldn't trade a minute of it.  She's half my soul and all my heart.  But, you know, there comes a time when enough is enough.

"I know none of you want to hear it – boy, do I – because I've been saying it to Sam since I was first diagnosed, but you guys gotta start thinking about moving on, about what you're going to do after I die."  He put up a hand to stall Adam's protest.  "Larry knows what to do with the house and the investments, and there'll be plenty of money if you need it.  But you, you're my future, you and your sister, and I'm the lucky one here, because you two get to go further into the future than any children I would have had with a mortal woman, and the bonus is, you get to do it with your mother _and_ your grandmother.  I can't think of a better legacy."  He paused, solemn.  "But I do have one favor to ask."

Adam swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.  He hated it when his _father_ made him want to cry.  It was bad enough with his mother.  "Shoot."

Darrin pulled from his pocket an obviously old, folded piece of paper, on which Adam could see handwriting.   He stretched the paper over to Adam.  "Here, take this and give it to your mother after this spell wears off.  I wrote it for her after she first started going out with me, but I never gave it to her, because I was too embarrassed.  Too dumb in love, is more like it.  Anyway, promise you'll give it to her for me, would you?"  Without waiting for an answer, he eased himself out of the chair, headed toward Endora and Larry sitting on the bench beside the net.  "Now give me a chance to get back to the cheering section before you start reading it."

As his father reached the bench, Adam carefully opened the paper and read the faded ink:

 

            _I'm bewitched by your enchanting ways._

_Samantha, you're my love, embrace me with your magic,_

_And take me away to the moon, at the speed of light._

_Wherever you go, you know I'll follow._

_I'm under your bewitching spell_

_You know you enchant me all too well._

_And yet, here I am, a mere mortal,_

_With no witchcraft whatsoever._

_But I still seem to fascinate you._

_Since the first time we met at a revolving door,_

_Everything about you I seem to adore._

_I love you, Sam, I always have._

_Without you, I don't know what I would do._

_But when you softly say, "Darrin, I love you,"_

_I always seem to,_

_All because of you._

 

Adam refolded the paper along ancient creases and put it in his shirt pocket, fighting to keep his emotions in check.  It would not do to burst into tears on a swing in the back yard.  Instead, he blew out a puff of air and set the swing in motion.  It occurred to him that his father sure was one hell of a man, and this thought helped to ease the ache in his throat.

Adam wondered if he married a mortal woman, would he have the depth of love his father had to stay married to her for 40 years?  Probably not, but who was he to challenge the future?  He looked around and realized absently that he would miss the house.

He took the rectangle of paper from his pocket again, turned it over in his hands a couple times, and put it back.  He knew the poem would break his mother's heart, but he also knew that no one, no warlock or mortal or magical being of any stripe, would ever love her as much as Darrin Stephens did, and he knew for certain it was this love, this remarkable, bewitching love, that would carry on through the centuries.

 

End.


End file.
